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valiantstarlights · 11 months

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[Priest Hob AU sequel] Some Months Later, December 24, Evening.

Tagging @alexxuun because they deserve credit for the AU. 😊 I can't tag the anon who requested a sequel in an ask, but here you go! I hope you like it. 🖤

"I don't...I don't understand." Hob clutches at Dream's arm when he realizes where Dream has transported them. "Why are we here?"

'Here' was the corridor they got married in, months ago by now. Nothing has changed. The fourth window left of the door was still cracked, and the tile near the first pillar was still placed unevenly. Time has passed, surely, but Hob doesn't know the time difference between Hell and Earth. For all he knows, only a few minutes have passed since he was last here with Dream.

"To pray, I suppose," Dream replies, sounding amused at his question. "Is this what being in my presence does to you, Father Robert? Have you forgotten the purpose of churches?"

Panic flared bright in his chest. "No, please, don't call me that. You know I'm not...I'm not that person anymore. I'm your husband now. Right? Dream?" His heart was suddenly beating so quickly. Dream was looking at him strangely, all traces of humor gone from his handsome face. "Why are we here? Have you...have you grown tired of me? Is this you returning me to my old life?"

No. No. Anything but that. Anything but the crushing loneliness, the prayers that ring hollow when he recites them, the misguided belief that suffering brings you closer to heaven. That it is worth being miserable your entire life, giving and giving until you have nothing left, for the sake of having a place in God's kingdom where it would be more of the same: worshipping an absent, indifferent being, the air filled with songs of zealous, nauseating praise, fake beatific smiles on the face of everyone you meet.

Hob would rather die than live that life again. He would rather starve in the streets and die a peasant's death than leave Dream's side. If his husband has fallen out of love with him--

"Hush, my love," Dream says, and then Hob is enfolded in his strong arms, Dream's dark wings also moving to shelter him. Hob immediately clings tight. If Dream wants him to let go, he's going to have to break Hob's arms first. "I am here. I will not leave you. You are mine until the end of time."

"Then why?" Hob asks against the rich fabric of Dream's robes. He still sounds panicked, short breath coming in gasps. "Why are we here? I don't want to be here."

Dream rubs Hob's back comfortingly, up and down and up again, sometimes brushing his long fingers through Hob's hair, until Hob calms down. Until he can breathe normally again. Hob doesn't know how much time has passed, but their surroundings are undisturbed and not a single person walks by them.

And then Dream asks, "Are you sure?"

What?

Dream sighs but continues his soothing gestures. "I know you miss it. I hear you hum sometimes, when your mind is focused on a task. Religious melodies. Christmas songs, of late. I don't think you notice it, but some of the staff do. Lucienne tells me you must have wanted to visit, but are too afraid to ask me." He leans away from Hob so Hob could see how sincere he looks, but all Hob reads in Dream's face is the sadness in his eyes at the thought of Hob not trusting him enough to tell him his wishes.

"I do not want you to think that you can never visit again," Dream tells him, soft and a little vulnerable. "I do not want you to think that by marrying me, you have lost your freedom." He looks around them, at the high ceilings and the tall windows. "And so here we are."

"Dream," Hob says as earnestly as he could. "It's just a habit. I hum when I feel like it's too quiet. It just so happens that the songs I pick are...well. But if you enchant a violin to play by itself and follow me around, I assure you the humming will cease, or if it persists, then it would be to the tune of Mozart or Bach or whichever composer you pick."

He places his hand against his husband's cheek and watches as Dream leans against it before turning his head to kiss his palm. Hob's heart breaks at the tender movement. How long had Dream been worried about this?

"As for my freedom," Hob says, "You did not clip my wings. You unbound them. And since you have, I have never felt happier. With you by my side, I feel like I can achieve anything. You opened my eyes and taught me better. Helped me unlearn all the false teachings I grew up believing to be true. You have made me into the best version of myself I could ever hope to be, and I would not have anyone else by my side. I'm glad I'm spending my eternity with you."

Dream's eyelashes flutter in pleasure at his words before he leans in and gives Hob a soft kiss on the lips. Hob returns it with a passion, wanting Dream to understand that Hob has already decided his fate, and that he has chosen Dream. Will always choose him. Each and every time. Hob needs him to understand that. But how..?

An idea forms in his mind, and as soon as their kiss reached its natural conclusion, he pulls Dream towards the church proper.

"Hob?"

"Come, husband," he says, still filled with a giddy kind of joy whenever he says the title. "I want to make something clear to you."

Dream follows him.

A few moments later, the two of them stand in front of the door that would open to the main hall of the church.

"Is it empty?" Hob asks.

"Yes," Dream says. "The midnight mass won't be starting until later this evening."

"The midnight mass?" Hob repeats in shock. "Is it already Christmas Eve?"

Dream nods.

"Good," Hob says firmly. "Even better." He opens the door, and indeed, there was no one inside.

Hob marches them past the rows of votive stands, past the carved wooden pedestal holding the lit advent candles nestled upon a wreath of evergreen, and right up to the altar. Then, with only a moment's worth of hesitation, Hob shoves everything on the altar crashing down on the ground: the book stand, the large Bible it's holding open, candelabras with unlit candles, and a couple of flower vases. He winces as the objects make a dreadful amount of noise, the water from the vases seeping onto the pages of the Bible, the heavy book stand crushing the flowers, the candelabras dented in a couple of places, the candles placed upon them rolling across the floor.

"Is there a point to this destruction?" Dream asks behind him, sounding adorably confused as to why his usually mild-mannered husband is acting this way.

"No," Hob says, then turns back to Dream. He wants to see his husband's face for this. "I just wanted to clear the altar for my offering."

"Your offering?"

Hob starts to strip, and Dream immediately shuts his mouth, eyes darkening as he understands what Hob is trying to do.

"I am offering myself to you," Hob says, and starts reciting Dream's many titles. "--King of Dreams and Nightmares, One of the Seven Rulers of Hell, and my beloved husband. I would have you stake your claim on me in front of all the angels and saints, right at the altar of the god I used to worship."

Dream stares at him, now fully naked and slightly shivering from the cold air, his nipples pebbling. "You do not know what you're asking for, Robert Gadling," he says, though if the echo of Nightmare's voice tainting his is any indication, then Hob knows exactly what he's trying to do. "This would be unlike our marriage. Offering yourself to me in this way..."

"Can I be any more owned by you?" Hob asks, genuinely curious. "Am I not offering you myself, body and soul, so in the future you will not do stupid things like think I would want to be away from your side? Away from our home?"

"You would be offering yourself body and soul to me, Hob, this is true," Dream says. "But you must know that in offering yourself to me the way you are planning, naked and willing upon an altar, you are also offering to bear my children."

"Your chil--" Hob gapes at him and looks down at himself, at his own body, which is still very hairy and very male. "You can get me pregnant?" He asks, only sounding slightly hysterical.

Dream nods gravely. "And now you see why offering yourself this way to me would be unwise. However, I have noted your intention, and will try not to do...foolish things in the future."

"And if I want it?" Hob asks, unwilling to leave just yet without being fucked here, in the place where he went through life like a ghost, upon the very altar he stood behind and spoke words of faith while having none in his heart. He feels his cock growing hard under Dream's eyes, the hunger in them barely restrained. "If I want to become pregnant with your child?"

Dreams eyes are turning so dark, it was like the stars in them have started to go out one by one. The end of multiple universes. "Hob."

"I am willing," Hob says. "And while I am no longer a virgin, I had been when you first--"

"You should not say these things," Dream says in Nightmare's voice, stepping forward into Hob's space. The shadows were gathering around him and slithering around Hob's feet like snakes. "Not unless you want me to fuck you pregnant in the house of your god."

Hob steps closer until his naked body is flush against his husband, precome staining Dream's dark robes, then leans upwards so he could kiss Dream's and Nightmare's fanged mouth. They nip at his lips and push him back against the altar, the stone cold and hard against his back. Hob moans and twines his arms around their neck, letting them lift him so he could sit on the altar. "Haven't you heard, my husband?" Hob murmurs against their lips. "I worship a different god now."

"More," Hob begs, an indeterminate amount time later. Dream's cum drips from his hole and onto the altar, but still Hob spreads himself open. "Again."

Dream kisses him lovingly and obeys. Half of his face is Nightmare and the other half is Dream. He only gets this way when he's feeling so much pleasure that both sides of himself come out to play. Hob loves him like this. Dream is generally a gentle lover while Nightmare prefers a hard fuck. But both of them at the same time means petal soft kisses from Dream while Nightmare chokes him with a hand around his throat as his cock jackhammers into Hob.

"Insatiable," Dream says in Nightmare's voice as he thrusts hard into Hob. It's good that the altar is made of stone or else it would have broken under their vigorous fucking. "Do you really intend for me to breed you here? Are you not going to be satisfied until my seed takes?"

Hob moans. Yes. That would, in fact, be the ideal outcome. He spreads his legs wider.

"And to think you had been a virgin when I married you," Nightmare says in Dream's voice, possessive and fond at the same time. "Your hole was so tight I had to spend hours with my tongue between your legs to loosen you up. And now your body knows my cock so well you can take me with minimal preparation."

Hob squeezes him as much as he could in retaliation, though it was a weak little thing, his hole already fucked sloppy and loose.

"What a slutty husband I have," they tell him. "Uncaring that at any point now, the deacons and the sacristans will be arriving to do last minute preparations. I doubt they'll have anything to say about the mess you made on the floor, not when they see a former priest of this church getting fucked like a whore right on top of their sacred altar."

Hob mewls at that, aroused beyond belief. He knows he probably shouldn't feel that way. How he should instead feel humiliation flooding his veins at the thought of being found in such a position by the people who used to respect him.

But oh, to be found pleasing his eternal husband, undeniably marked with his teeth and claimed by his large cock...

"Want it," he gasps. It was so hard to speak and his thoughts are a scattered mess. "Show. I'm yours."

"You want me to continue fucking you in front of them?" Nightmare asks, delighted. "You want me to laugh in their faces as they wield their wooden crosses at me when they try to banish me? Shall I bathe them in flame and watch them burn alive when they do?"

Hob doesn't care. He could barely remember them anyway.

"It is tempting," Dream admits. "I want to see the look on their faces when they realize that Father Robert didn't just disappear mysteriously, but was instead granted a better life. However," and here he grinds harder to emphasize his point. Hob keens, toes curling and legs shaking. He has lost count of how many times he came, but he could feel the pressure building in his stomach once more. He'll probably cum dry this time. Or totally lose control of his body and squirt all over Dream. It's already happened once. "I do not want anyone else to see you like this. Only I should have that privilege. Don't you agree?"

Hob nods frantically. Whatever his husband wants. Fuck, his cock feels so good. Hob wants him to fill him up more until he grows round with his cum.

"No, I think we'll just leave them a nice little Christmas present." And with that, Dream wraps his hand around Hob's cock and starts stroking him to the rhythm of his thrusts. Hob practically seizes, wailing, cumming dry, as Dream pounds him harder through his orgasm before shooting another batch of cum straight into Hob's newly formed womb.

When the first group of deacons arrive to make the final preparations for the Midnight Mass, the mess on the floor that Hob created is not the first thing they see. Nor do they notice that the altar was desecrated by a truly overflowing amount of both human and demon cum.

They would have noticed these things, but Dream kept his promise and left them his Christmas present, to help make the church look more festive at such an important time in their liturgical calendar.

He did this by covering every interior surface of the church, from ceiling to floor, and not missing a single statue, with fresh, bright red blood.

#Priest Hob AU #CW: blasphemy #i'm not joking or being cute about this #the blasphemy level in this is so high that I the author herself am warning you about it #CW: altar sex #CW: nightmare!dream #honestly just assume that things are gonna be unhinged whenever he's present #am I intentionally posting this on a Sunday? N-no #if this were a vine it would be the 'you're all going to hell 😊 goodbye 👋' one #if this were doctor who this would be the christmas episode #I'm gonna end up calling it that aren't I #2000 plus words wtf #good job my thumbs #dreamling #the sandman #my writing

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